


What Can YOU Do?

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Drug Addiction, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, One Shot, Poor Life Choices, questionable parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 14:50:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20311306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: I…” He choked on the syllable.“What can you offer me?” Andrew was just a thin whisper. “I can’t carry myself anymore.”-o0o-Al gets a call from his son at 2am.





	What Can YOU Do?

By that time of night he had settled deep within the rounded cushions of his “great-grandfather chair”. It was supremely late at night. The world was still where he sat, and if he could think himself off the ground than he imagined himself on the moon. He raised the footrest and went through a cycle of flexing and relaxing his feet. Yes, it was very late. 

Then with no time to prepare, “Empire State of Mind” began to play from within his pocket.

He had a distinct ringtone for each of his children. His kids, the 50. Alfred Jones didn’t have an opinion about Alicia Keys. Her songs were neither here nor there to him (being a man who had lived through any musical trend people could think of). It took actual time for him to decide what would go to which kid, but his song for Andrew was an instant decision. “Empire State of Mind” encompassed everything he’d come to revere about one of his eldest sons. 

‘No place in the world that could compare’.

But he didn’t hear it often. He never called. 

Al dug out his phone and said nothing.

“...Hey…” Andrew was sounding farther and farther away with each call. “I just wanted…-I figures I should call - no. I thaught…-I’m taking the time to call you tonight.”

“Oh.” His return was a statement. “You’ve made time for me. Out of your...busy schedule.”

“Busy? Yeah...What time is it where you are?”

It was almost a valid question. Al moved around all the time and barely had a permanent residence. Each call, text, or email from his children had that question threaded inside it. Some used it as an introduction to good news, others used it to buy time away from the core of their words. 

“I’m in DC Andrew. We’re in the same timezone, why are you calling me at 2 am?” He said sounding bored.

“Well, I could ask why you’re answering the phone at 2 am!” Andrew had always tried to be humorous. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

“Sure.” He said flatly. “Do you know the date?-”

“Is it someone’s birthday??”-”

“No, not anyone. It’s December first. Goodnight-”

“Actually I had something to ask-”

“You aren’t missing anyone's birthday Andrew and even if you were, I’m not telling them you said “happy”. Call them for once.” Al engaged his core working towards complete silence. He exhaled. He hoped some form of stillness would transfer to New York. Peace. “I know you hate to miss them.”

Peace for his son and the relationship they possibly viewed as obligatory. 

“I do.” He urged. “That’s not why I’m calling. I just wanted-”

“OH! You want something, Andrew?” Al’s tongue was very “clippy” that evening. “What a surprise. Now’s not the time to want is it?”

“...Al please.”

“I supposed it’s always time to want something where you are.”

“Dad, please. I just wanted to-”

“Doesn’t this get old?-”

“-Tell you-”

“-I feel like I should guess this time. This gets old, why not jazz this up? I’m old.” Al took a quieter tone. “You’re old.”

“It’s not about something I want, it’s something I feel I need-”

“You could try and flip the script.” Al crossed his ankled. “Make it different this time.”

“We don’t have to do this tonight.” Andrew’s pitch leaned than cracked off. “The thing I need is from you.”

“Lemme guess, United Nations.” Each of his children had a right to request attending a UN meeting..New York had been suspended a year ago. “You simply are not coming until you get that body of yours sorted. Time to grow up! You don’t need pills.”

“Al, you’re still not getting it. I need my Adderall just like I need my Xanax. Isolated triggers and events cause me to require medication-”

“Don’t start this with me.” Al’s face hardened. “Not when it’s 2 am.”

“I’m not starting anything! Take my anxiety seriously!”

“-You’ve never spoken in front of a panel that wanted you and your cause wiped off the face of the earth. Never delivered a starting message in front of a board, never gone to war! Tell me, where does your anxiety come from?” Al just wanted some bourbon. “You could be that. Do this, you’re just addicted to a chemical you’ve never needed.”

Silence from the line. ‘Good.’

“There are 50 of you kids. 50 important, sad, happy, sacred, and urgent things to tell me all the time. 50 people who could have something to say, my line is always busy.” Al usually tried to leave his own complaints out of conversations like this, but…”But I still watch myself! I jog, I eat right, I am still finding time to get sleep.”

He heard some rough breathing from the other side. “...Why can’t you understand my anxiety Dad?!”

“You’ve created this ship to wreck. I know you’re addicted to other more dangerous things. Why don’t you get stoned twice a month and call me like your sister in California?”

“Dad that’s different. She’s different! Why don’t you believe my job is hard??” Andrew was in desperation.

“Becuase I’m still sane.” Right now it’s just you and me. We are 2. Yet you can’t manage-”

“-That’s why I’m calling you Dad!”

“What if there’s someone calling me with an emergency!”

“But...aren’t we talking...right now, Dad??” Andrew’s voice tapered off.

“What?”

“I said: AREN’T WE TALKING!” Andrew came out swinging. “This is an emergency!”

“No, we’re not.” AL buckled down fro round 2 of ‘tough love’. “You’re still asking for things.”

“I’m not asking for anything hard to give!” He sounded winded.

“Really? I Supposed you’re still under the impression that money is easy to throw away. You’re my child, I’m keeping you on my insurance. However, anything you ‘embark on’ will end up on MY card.”

“Dad I’m living better now-”

“The whole of New York will pay if you’re too zonked out to function.” Al raised his voice: “You won’t pull that shit with me again!”

“That was a long time ago.” There was a sniffling sound. “Leave it alone.”

“Why don’t you describe what water tastes like?” AL didn’t want to bite his tongue, it would bleed. “Or have you made the switch to alcohol indefinite?”

“I know it doesn’t help me anymore...I stopped-”

“So you’ve started.” 

“I had to learn the hard way, Dad. Please don’t hold that against me.” Andrew's voice was getting thick. “I stopped.”

“But for how long? Long enough to get back into the nightlife?”

“I-”

“Pills and booze won’t keep you alive.” AL look at the ring of residue on a glass coaster near him. A glass of bourbon really would have been a nice addition. He bet if he was to look at the liquid long enough it would start to boil. “They keep you feeling dead to us.”

“I relapsed Dad.” Andrew's timbre was hollow, nearly ghastly.

“...I’m not surprised. Don’t call me your father until you want to be a son.”

Silence. A full minute.

A quiet voice. “I didn’t think you’d remember what the city looks like in the winter.” Andrew coughed. “If you did, then maybe I’D GET SOME SYMPATHY!”

“DO YOU CRAVE MY PITY? You can’t have that either!” They were shouting now. It had never been this bad.

“I JUST WANT YOU TO LISTEN TO ME!”

“Better think through how much money you need to pay that dealer back.” Al’s eyes were getting damp on their own accord. “When will you take care of yourself?! Don’t you know you can die? DON’T YOU KNOW WHAT THAT WOULD DO TO THIS WORLD?”

There was a sniffling sound conjoined to a wet cough. “...I know exactly what that would mean.”

“..This is called responsibility. You mean are irreplaceable. OWN UP TO IT-”

“I’M HAVING A TOUGH TIME DAD!”

Al’s ambition was finally cut by the sound of his son’s hysterical sob. Because that was where they were, wasn’t it?

“I-i had these small problems, but then they grew bigger than me!” Andrew wailed.

How could such an essential connection transform into sparingly long phone calls and shouting matches?

“I think to myself: ‘This is the last time. This is the last time you'll need it.’ It never is! And I keep climbing - then suddenly I’m high for real.” Andrew could not be consoled in this state. “What if I fall to my death??”

Al simply held the phone in his cold hands listening. For once in his life. Then his mouth moved: 

“Have I said too much?” A tear drew down his cheek. “Have I hit..too hard?” He spoke to himself.

“This life can’t carry me now.” Andrew wept.

“I-”

“But I still called” He sniffled and started crying again. “But what would you offer me!?”

“Andrew…”

“What would you do?? What would you do for your drug addict son!” Andrew butchered both the words and Al’s soul. “What would YOU do??” 

I…” He choked on the syllable.

“What can you offer me.” Andrew was just a thin whisper. “I can’t carry myself anymore.” 

“I’m coming to New York. At once.”

**Author's Note:**

> "Waiting for the Snow" - OMAM


End file.
